


Un Joyeux Noël

by lukegray (spacebarista)



Series: Relation de Travail [3]
Category: The Following
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boss/Employee Relationship, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/lukegray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giselle rarely expects a good Christmas. But this year, her boss is full of surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Un Joyeux Noël

**Author's Note:**

> An EXTREMELY late Christmas gift for the Luke to my Giselle my RP partner Nik. I love this AU and I thought she'd like seeing them finally kiss and do other nice Christmas things. Luke is much nicer in this AU. I'd mentioned their first kiss in another fic in the series so I figured I'd write the actual event.
> 
> To see Luke's gift to Giselle, go [here](http://www.tiffany.com/Shopping/Item.aspx?fromGrid=1&sku=27906028&mcat=148204&cid=287465&search_params=p+1-n+10000-c+287465-s+5-r+-t+-ni+1-x+-lr+-hr+-ri+-mi+-pp+11309+83&search=0&origin=browse&searchkeyword=#p+1-n+10000-c+287465-s+5-r+-t+-ni+1-x+-pu+-f+false+1-lr+-hr+-ri+-mi+-pp+11309+83). To see Giselle's gift to Luke, go [here](http://www.rolex.com/watches/cellini-date/m50519-0005.html).

Giselle hates these Christmas parties. It’s too many people. Too much snobbery and talk of spending the holiday somewhere tropic, on a ski vacation, or in other luxurious places. Too much bragging about expensive gifts. It’s just another event to spend gloating about riches instead of just being grateful for them.

 

She remembers what it’s like to go without, to only dream about parties like this. To dream of wearing the dress she’s wearing: a long dark blue and nude backless gown that shimmers in the Christmas lights. To dream of wearing well-done makeup and expensive jewelry, her hair curled about her shoulders. To dream of eating expensive foods and sipping expensive wine in an opulent and expensive house.While in reality, her clothes were old and unkempt. She and her hair were often dirty. And her stomach rumbled loudly and painfully in hunger.  

 

And above all, she remembers what it’s like to be alone on Christmas. She still does. While all these people will surround themselves with friends and family on Christmas, she’ll be alone in her apartment, with no free friends or living family to call upon. Her only friends have family or family through relationships. She’d only been a bit bothered by it before, but now…

 

Giselle glances at the large wall clock by the tree. He’s late again. He usually is when she’s not there to corral him. But he had a meeting she hadn’t been invited to, and he planned to come straight to the party from there. She’s nowhere near as social as he is, especially around the filthy rich, and she’s been trying as hard as she can. She’s not sure how much more energy she can put into her false smile without her boss next to her. 

 

There’s a commotion by the door—joyous exclamations and laughter—and she turns to see what the fuss is. Thank God. Luke Gray, his hair and beloved pea coat dotted with snow, hugs their host’s beautiful wife. When they separate, he presents her with a bottle of wine for their cellar. She hides a proud grin behind her glass. She’d picked it out. Luke couldn’t be bothered to remember their taste in fine wines, but she takes note of everything. The doorman takes his coat, leaving him to squint into the party, straightening his suit jacket. He meets her eyes. She smiles, and his jaw slackens as his eyes widen.

 

Giselle shifts uncomfortably and turns to get another glass of wine off the table for him, tucking her clutch under her arm. She’s seen similar looks on his face before. When he first met Ryan Hardy’s niece Max. When he met Heather the dancer at a black tie fundraiser. When he spoke to a prima donna during the after party of a performance of the Paris Opera. But never towards her.

 

She’s never been one to mind it. She’s been working for him for over five years. As his secretary and assistant she had to balance both her professionalism and… and a bit of affection that she had for him. It has grown, of course. She just balanced it with more professionalism. He showed no sign of feeling the same way towards her, no more than a close friend. Now she wonders.

 

A hand rests on her lower back and she turns into Luke’s arm, holding out the glass to him with a teasing grin. 

 

“Good of you to finally show up, boss. I thought I would have to make excuses for you all evening…”

 

Luke grins back, all trace of shock gone from his face. “Yeah, well,” he sighs, clinking his glass against hers before taking a sip. “You know how those bankers love to talk.”

 

“How did it go?” She brushes some snow from his hair, and he barely reacts to her touch.

 

“It went fine. They’ll be happy to make a new account for us, with a few incentives to keep the money there. Thank you for buttering them up for me with your presentation last week.”

 

Giselle snorts. “Please. I didn't do anything. It was that Luke Gray Charm that got them, I’m sure.”

 

Luke laughs softly, sipping again from his wine and taking in her face and dress. Giselle clears her throat, and he swallows, squinting out at the other guests.

 

“You, uh…” Luke pauses. Giselle raises an eyebrow at him. Rarely does he falter or stutter, especially when not involved in an argument. At a party? In his most natural state: well-dressed and surrounded by successful people? He takes a breath and meets her eyes again. “You look lovely, Giselle. Beautiful, really. That dress is… flattering.”

 

She blinks at him. He’s never directly commented on how she looked before. It was kind of him; in their line of work, men work hard to act over-masculine and comment on her behind her back or to her face all the time. Her ass when she bends over, how tight a blouse might be, where she could sit (on their laps), and much more. But never Luke. His comments were always muted or just polite. Like telling her how nice her blue scarf was with an outfit, or noting how a new haircut looked. Friendly compliments. 

 

This is more than he’s ever said to her about how she looks. It’s… it’s confusing. But also spreads a warmth through her chest. First looking at her like he had, now telling her she looks… beautiful? This isn’t a Luke she’s used to. She smiles at him, hiding all her thoughts. 

 

“Thank you, Luke. That’s sweet of you to say.” She finishes her glass of wine and grabs another. She hooks her free arm through his and pulls him towards one of the smaller groups in the area. “Now come on, it’s time for you to do the rounds.”

 

She pretends she doesn’t see the change his his expression. For a moment, he looks… crestfallen. But his usual smug grin takes its rightful place as he greets one of the board members and his mistress, like the change never happened.

 

 

 

Giselle breathes in the crisp, fresh air. She had stepped out after over an hour of schmoozing with almost everyone at the party alongside Luke. It also helps her head with all the wine she’d had to keep her thoughts at bay. The house has a large balcony over looking the lake it rests on, and the exposed railings hold a good inch or two of snow. The stars wink in the sky above her through holes in the fading clouds, reflecting in the black water beneath. She rarely gets to leave New York, and rarely has reason to, so beautiful sights like this often elude her. 

 

She needs the time alone. Away from the noise of the party and away from… from Luke. She’s not been able to get his expression when he saw her or his words out of her mind. He thinks she looks beautiful. But is it just a passing comment, one that she’d only hear in similar situations, or something more? She had noticed him watching her at her desk when he thinks she’s not looking. Offering to help her with paper work or carrying things when he didn’t before. Touching her every chance he got: a hand on her elbow or at the small of her back. 

 

Has something changed? Does he feel more than just friendly towards her?

 

Closing her eyes, she tips her chin up and enjoys the wind on her skin. She wouldn’t mind. Not at all. She’s often thought about him herself. Meeting him for coffee or dinner and not discussing business. Quick kisses between appointments. Secret touches under conference room tables. Things she’d seen other couples do. But her position and his eyes on other women kept her from taking her desires seriously, or acting on them. Now… He’s already the closest she has to a best friend, isn’t that what the best lover should be?

 

There’s a scuffing sound behind her, and she glances over her shoulder. 

 

Luke hovers in the doorway, tie askew, hands tucked into his pockets. He has that look plastered on his face again: wonder. Awe. Her face warms. She hopes he can’t see it. They watch each other, the world silent despite the party guests chattering inside. Like there’s no one else but them. It does feels like it. The weight of his gaze becomes too heavy. Giselle looks away first, back into the black lake.

 

There’s a pause before Luke meanders over to her. The air moves as he takes his place beside her, leaning his arms on the railing after brushing off a small amount of snow. The silence continues. They often share companionable silence. There have been plenty of times when they could sit in each other's company without saying a word. Long flights and car rides, extra hours over paperwork at the office, waiting for meetings in building lobbies. 

 

This particular silence is different. It’s new. It’s uncomfortable. 

 

So Giselle breaks it.

 

“How’s the party going?”

 

Luke shrugs a shoulder, eyes still taking in the lake. “It’s a rich man’s party. They’re all the same.”

 

“You wouldn’t say that if it were your party,” she teases, admiring how his blazer looks stretched tight across his shoulders. “In fact, you’d pull out all the stops and more, begging me to say how it’s the greatest party ever.”

 

He snorts. “Well, yeah. Obviously.” He glances up at her, a grin in place. “I have to have a better party than the last guy, right?”

 

“Absolutely. That’s how you play the game.”

 

“And I always play to win, don’t I, Miss Richoux?”

 

“Always, Mr. Gray,” she agrees, rubbing her hands over her arms. 

 

Luke’s grin fades. He straightens and shrugs his blazer off. Giselle waves him off.

 

“No, Luke, it’s fine. I’m—”

 

“Giselle, please.” 

 

She pauses. His tone is sincere, firm. The same tone she uses on him for similar reasons ranging from getting him to get some rest to getting him to read important memos. It always works on him; he gives in to her eventually. She reminds him what’s best for him. And now he’s trying to do the same for her. It’s a strange night indeed. She relents.

 

 Giselle turns, holding out her arms. Luke slips the coat on her with a soft chuckle. It’s still warm from his own body, and smells faintly of his cologne. She catches herself wishing to bury her nose in it. Instead, she pulls it tighter and turns to him with her arms across her middle.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He nods, a smile smile growing on his lips again. He turns back to the lake. Giselle does the same, but her eyes stray back to him. He’s a handsome man. She’s never denied that from the start. All she could do was focus on things other than his looks. She focussed on learning how his company worked and learning how their relationship worked and learning about living in America. And then she focussed on being the best assistant she could be, working as hard as she could. 

 

She’s done all that. Successfully, even. For years. So… can she reward herself with a taste of what she wants now? To see if it’s truly what she wants?

 

The clock in the hall strikes ten, the chimes echoing out to the balcony. Giselle shakes her head. What is she thinking? Of course she can’t. Especially not at a work party. Anyone could see. She grabs her clutch from the balcony railing, turns, and starts to retreat into the house, calling over her shoulder at Luke.

 

“I need a drink. Can I get you any—”

 

She’s almost to the door. A hand grabs her wrist and her momentum almost turns her back around. Her clutch clatters to the ground. She’s pulled to the side of the door far enough away that she can’t see inside. Her back presses against the wall, Luke’s coat protecting it from the cold surface. Snow brushes against her ankle. When Giselle looks up, she meets Luke’s clear blue eyes. She’s able to suck in one breath before he leans down and presses his lips to hers.

 

Giselle freezes for a moment. He’s warm. Even his lips are warm. Why is he doing this? He has to have thought of the same things she has. That this is neither the time nor the place for such an act. And yet… he’s still kissing her. Then again, he has always been a bit impulsive. The idiot. He pulls back—in reaction to her lack of response, she’s sure—his brows drawn together and his soft panting creating clouds of air between them. 

 

They stare at each other. There’s loud laughter from inside the house, but neither even glance at the door. Luke searches her face, and thoughts whip through Giselle’s mind. Pros and cons of various reactions run together but only one thing stands out in the cacophony.

 

She wants very badly to kiss him back.

 

Giselle silences everything. Who gives a damn about what those rich assholes think? There’s only one opinion that truly matters to her. So she grabs his shirt and pulls him back in to give him a kiss of her own. She can feel him freeze himself, then his lips quirk up against hers and his hands move to her waist. He pulls her tight against him as Giselle loosens her grip and flattens her hands against his chest.

 

Somewhat more than chaste kisses evolve into deeper, messier ones. Luke licks at her lip, and she opens her mouth to him with a soft moan. Giselle relishes every second of their embrace. She can really smell his cologne now—strong, but not strong enough to complete cover up the faint scents of smoke and coffee. He warms her up like a furnace despite the chill of the air around them, the snow piled close to her feet. He tastes like wine and a hint of the coffee he must have had at the meeting. Bankers can be quite boring, after all. And his heart beats strong and fast under her hand. She holds back a smile.

 

They stop for a few moments, breathing heavily to make up for the lack of it. Laughter bubbles from the both of them. It’s a strange mixture of awkward and happy. But neither pull away. Giselle has almost no time to recover before Luke slips his hand into her hair and pulls her in for another long kiss. She hums into it, and he snorts out a laugh. She opens her eyes for only a moment, and sees Luke’s brows drawn together in a look of concentration she knows well. God… why did this take them so long?

 

There’s a laugh—loud and close to the door—and the two jerk back. Giselle bumps back into the wall and Luke comes close to slipping in the snow. They stand still, listening to the voice to see if the laugher will be stepping out to see them. Giselle stares at the doorway. Shadows move in the light from inside, but no one steps out into the cold. Luke snickers, and Giselle turns back to him.

 

“Your lipstick is a bit… smeared,” he manages to get out between breaths and laughs.

 

Giselle raises an eyebrow. It’s a pretty rich statement coming from a man with lipstick smeared across his own lips. She grins and shakes her head, looking for her clutch. Luke spots it first and grabs it, stepping close to hand it to her. 

 

“Thank you, Luke,” she whispers. She waves him closer. “You’re a mess yourself. Let me clean you up.”

 

Luke obediently holds still while Giselle dampens a handkerchief with snow and wipes at his face. Giselle can’t help but smile, and she can see his eyes twinkling with amusement as well. As soon as he’s respectable again, Giselle digs out her compact and lipstick, handing the compact and her clutch back to him.

 

“Open that for me?” He does as she instructs, and she uses the mirror to clean her own lips and re-apply her lipstick. When she’s finished, she flashes him a grin. “How does that look?”

 

Luke gazes at her with a look similar to the one he’d had when he first saw her at the party. “It looks perfect.”

 

Giselle’s smile widens. She gathers her things from him and tucks them away. Finally she shrugs off his coat and hands it back to him.

 

“How about we do one more round?”

 

Luke smiles, pulling his coat back on. “Sounds fair. And I can take you home if you’d like.”

 

“Square deal, Mr. Gray,” she says, taking his arm as soon as he offers it.

 

If any of the guests notice anything different about them, they don’t say. The pair weave through the party saying goodbyes and hugging and wishing happy holidays. When they finally finish, Luke helps Giselle into her coat before getting back into his own. The valet pulls up in one of Luke’s cars, and Giselle raises an eyebrow at him. 

 

“You drove yourself? In this weather?”

 

Luke shrugs, opening the passenger door for her. “I’m full of surprises, Miss Richoux.”

 

The drive back into the city is mostly silent. It’s not the uncomfortable silence they shared on the balcony. It’s their normal companionable silence. The kind neither seeks to end.A few times, Giselle watches him drive. She takes in his completely relaxed form, his long fingers tapping on the steering wheel. He’s gorgeous, even in the shadows of the car. With what just happened between them, could he maybe be hers? 

 

“Everything okay, Giselle?” 

 

She starts, not realizing that Luke had glanced over at her. A smirk plays on his lips and his gaze alternates between her and the road. Giselle snorts softly and shifts, looking out at the road herself. She shrugs.

 

“Of course,” she reassures him. “Just… Happy, I think.”

 

“Yeah?” He hums. Silence falls again. The lights of New York City wink at them in the distance, as clear as the stars Giselle watched from the balcony. And just as beautiful. Luke sighs, not unhappily. “Me too. I think.”

 

A smile spreads unbidden across her face. It’s the best news she’s gotten in a while. She relaxes back into the comfortable seat. Maybe she’ll make it through the holiday alright after all, with these new developments in mind. Maybe he could be hers. 

 

They arrive at her building almost too soon. Giselle glances out the window and sees her doorman, Jack, hovering just inside. Tomorrow starts his Christmas vacation. He’s heading to New Jersey, off with his wife and kids to have Christmas with his mother and siblings. Like Luke, who will leave for Stamford in the morning. He’ll spend Christmas Eve and Day there with his adopted mother and siblings, Mark, and Emma Hill, Mark’s girlfriend. Surrounded by family.

 

Giselle will be alone with just her small tree and paperwork for company.

 

Luke climbs out first, jogging over to her side to open the door. She takes his hand when he offers it and lets him help her out and onto her feet. He doesn’t release her hand. She doesn’t mind. He sighs and grins at her.

 

“Well, Miss Richoux. It appears we’ve arrived at your destination.”

 

“It certainly does, Mr. Gray,” Giselle agrees, waving at Jack. The man waves back and nods at Luke. It’s been a while since Luke has visited, but the older man remembers him. Luke nods back. Giselle sighs, glancing down at their hands. “I should go in. You have an early start tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah,” Luke sighs, his attention shifting back to her. “You know mother. She’ll skin me if I’m late for dinner preparations.”

 

Giselle doesn’t know Lily Gray personally. Not yet. They never seem to be able to cross paths. But she knows the stories. She grins at him, stepping closer. 

 

“So don’t be late,” she chides. “Go home and get some sleep. Lord knows you’ve not had enough of it lately.”

 

“Yes, Giselle,” he singsongs. But he doesn’t move. He stays there, watching her. Giselle can’t quite look away either. She’s noticed lingering from the both of them before, but never like this. It’s silly. Childish. And yet… She still can’t move. She shakes her head.

 

“Oh for God’s sake—” She kisses him before he can ask her what’s wrong. Her heels give her more height to work with, but she still has to push up on her toes to reach. He catches on soon enough. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her against him. It made it a lot easier for her. Giselle lingers before pulling back. Luke does the same, delighting her. There’s reluctance in their separating. But Luke _does_ have an early morning. She smiles at him and leans up to peck him once more on the lips. His gaze is dreamy and distracted. “Have a merry Christmas, Luke. Travel safe. I’ll see you Monday.”

 

She turns on her heel and walks towards her door. Jack is noticeably absent. Must have hurried off when he saw her and Luke kissing. She hopes he’s at least still at her desk when she gets in. She has to make sure that he got the gifts she left for his family. She’d steps from the door when Luke’s voice breaks the silence.

 

“What are you going to do?” She turns. For a second, there’s concern on his face. It’s gone before she can dwell on it. He merely shrugs, crossing his arms. “For Christmas. What are your plans?”

 

Giselle opens her mouth to answer. Nothing comes out. Should she tell him? It’s always implied that she spends the holiday alone. He knows she has no living family and no real desire to return to Paris. But he’s never asked. Just lets her bundle him up and send him on his way. Tonight really has changed things.

 

She smiles at him. “Just going to relax. Open some gifts, curl up with my book and some cocoa… maybe catch up on paperwork.”

 

Luke’s expression falters. He blinks and it’s gone. “Alone?”

 

“Yes,” she replies, laughing just enough to sound genuine. “I can finally have some peace and quiet!” She struggles not to close the distance again and kiss the concern out of him. To make him smile again. She just keeps smiling instead. “ _Goodnight_ , Luke. See you in a few days. Give Mark and Emma my love.”

 

Giselle turns on her heel, jogging to the door. It’s cold, and she’s still in her dress. Luke’s voice makes it to her again.

 

“I know for a _fact_ that you’re _ahead_ of your paperwork, Miss Richoux!”

 

She snorts and walks into her building. Jack’s at his desk, thumbing through a recent _Rolling Stone_ issue sent for a resident who had moved out last year. He loves those things. The older man jumps to attention when he hears the click of her heels on the marble floor. 

 

“Ms. Giselle! How was the party?”

 

“It was fun, Jack,” she answers with a smile. She leans over his desk, glancing at his magazine. “Did you get the gifts I left?”

 

The man smiles, nodding. “I did, thank you. You didn’t have to do that, though.”

 

“Please, of course I did.” She crosses her arms, giving him a mock glare. “You and your wife work really hard and your kids sound great. Figured I could thank you for keeping an eye on me since I moved in.”

 

“I wouldn’t have to if you and that Gray fellow would just get on with it already.” He raises an eyebrow. “But I don’t think we have to worry about _that_ anymore do we?”

 

The Frenchwoman rolls her eyes. “You too, huh.” She sighs and grins. She wonders how bitter it looks to him. “Well, we’ll see. Goodnight, Jack. You and your family have a merry Christmas.”

 

“You too, Ms. Giselle,” he replies, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. He goes back to his magazine, and Giselle takes the opportunity to escape to the elevator. With luck, she won’t run into anyone else who knows her and Luke. Jack is close to the only one. 

 

Giselle can’t get into her apartment fast enough. Her shoes are kicked off with a happy sigh and she glides into her bedroom. Her dress is hung back up, her jewelry put away, her make up carefully washed away. Her pajamas are far simpler: a cami and yoga pants. Changing from her work clothes or her formal attire to her pyjamas is her favorite part of the day. She gets to wipe away her mask, strip out of her armor, slip into her bed, and put the day behind her. 

 

She’s about to do just that when there’s a knock at the door. She glances at the clock. There’s no reason for anyone to be at her door this late. She looks down at her bed longingly. It will have to wait. She sighs and pads out of her room. Her shoes still lie by the door. There’s another knock, but she pauses to pick them up. She even hesitates to turn the doorknob. It’s silly. She can do this. She opens it, and sighs.

 

“Luke? What are you doing here?”

 

Her boss stands in the hallway, shoulders hunched and hands rubbing together. It must have started snowing again—his coat is dotted with the stuff. Luke grins at her, straightening his posture the second he sees her. 

 

“Hey, Giselle,” he tucks his hands in his pockets, and she hears a soft _thunk_ when he does. “Jack let me up. I was just wondering if I could… come in. Maybe.”

 

Giselle rolls her eyes. “Luke, it’s _late_. You have to—”

 

“Be up early, I know. I just—” He cuts himself off. He squints at her, thinking. She’s always thought it was kind of cute. But not at this hour. 

 

“ _Luke_.”

 

“I forgot to give you this.” Luke pulls a square, flat, neatly wrapped box from his pocket. Giselle blinks at him. It’s his turn to sigh. “Your present. I forgot your present.”

 

“Oh… Well… come in.”

 

Giselle steps aside and lets Luke walk in. She stands back, watching him take in the space. He’s not been by in a while. Not much has changed, but she won’t stop him from looking around. His gaze rests on her tree, on her tiny pile of gifts. She knows who each one is from. Emma. Mark. Jack. She’ll add his to the pile and her heart will feel just a bit lighter. She can only imagine what wealth waits for him under the Gray family tree. With all the people who love him.

 

“You got my gift, yeah?” She’d left it on his desk when she left to prepare for the party, unsure if she’d get to give it to him herself. He’d been in meetings all day. So she placed the neatly wrapped and ribboned square box on the center of his desk, near a small pile of cards and smaller boxes. He’d know it’s from her. It was something she’d known he needed, and she had been clever about _how_ to tell him it was from her. 

 

Luke glances at her over his shoulder. He reaches into his other coat pocket and pulls out the very same box she’d left for him. Giselle grins before she can even think about it. Luke turns to her, bouncing the box he had brought for her in his hand. He holds it out to her.

 

“Thought maybe we could open them together. Before I leave.”

 

Giselle scoffs. “I can’t believe you brought my gift for you to the party. What if you had lost it?”

 

“Hey,” Luke starts, a grin growing on his face. “I left them in the car. I only brought it up when I came up here.”

 

Giselle looks down at the box in her hands. It’s wrapped too neatly for Luke to have wrapped it. It’s relatively light. She can guess what it might be, but she doesn’t. Instead, she looks back at him, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Why _did_ you come up here, Luke?”

 

Luke raises an eyebrow of his own. “I told you. I forgot your gift.”

 

“So?” Giselle catches the flippant tone in her voice as Luke tilts his head. That’s not what she is going for. She takes a deep breath and starts again. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, Luke. It’s just… you’ve given me most of your gifts late. Why is it so important that this one isn’t?”

 

Luke doesn’t move. He stares at her. It’s unnerving, but Giselle doesn’t look away. There’s something in his gaze that she can’t quite place. Something new. He shakes his head and laughs, looking down at the small box in his own hands.

 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, Giselle,” he says, locking eyes with her once more. “You shouldn’t have to spend any of it alone.”

 

Giselle’s mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. She gropes for something to say. It’s been a night of new territory for them. And now? Now he’s being open and honest, not hiding behind a joke or a smirk. Telling her he wanted to be with her for _her_. She swallows.

 

“Luke… I—”

 

“Just… open your present, okay?”

 

Giselle smiles and rolls her eyes. Impatient little thing. She carefully tears the wrapping open. She’s curious, but not enough to rush. She can feel Luke’s eyes on her, and she’d rather make him wait. She sees the iconic light blue and snaps her head up to look at him. His expression remains neutral. She pulls of the paper and sees that it’s a blue jewelry box. A Tiffany box.

 

“You _didn’t_.”

 

“Just open it. We don’t have all week.”

 

Luke hates going to jewelry stores. He complains to her, texting or calling her every time he ends up there with his mother or Mark. Whines about lovesick couples and vain women and hassled looking husbands hovering around. But he went. He went and got her something. She slides the lid off and looks at the item inside.

 

It’s a tiny, pretty pendant. An eight-pointed star made of diamonds lies in a circle of gold and blue on a thin gold chain. It’s… _beautiful_. She lets out a shaky breath and touches it very gently. Luke moves closer to her, watching her face. She looks up at him. There’s a tiny bit of worry in his expression, something only she or Mark could catch. The corner of his mouth quirks up.

 

“So… do you like it?”

 

Giselle smiles at him. “I do. I _love_ it. Thank you, Luke.”

 

His tiny grin grows to a full-blown smile at that. “Good. That’s—” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders. “That’s great. Would you like me to…?” He reaches out to her and she nods.

 

“Yes, please.” Giselle trades boxes with him, taking his gift so he could get the necklace out of the box. She turns and waits. The box clatters onto her counter, and she feels Luke move close behind her. The necklace is cool on her skin and light on her chest. Luke gently pulls her hair out from under the chain. He rests his hands on her shoulders. Giselle relishes the warmth. He takes a breath.

 

“I saw it, when I was with Mark getting Emma’s gift. And I thought of you.”

 

Giselle hums, leaning back into him just a bit. “How do you mean?”

 

He’s silent for a few moments, pondering her question. “Well… You’re like my North Star, aren’t you? Helping me stay the course all these years. And beautiful.” He kisses her temple. “Which is a plus.”

 

Giselle snorts. She looks down at the floor and remembers her gift for him.

 

“Oh, here,” she says, turning back to him and holding out the wrapped box. “I opened yours, you open mine.”

 

Luke blinks and takes the box. He has much less care for the wrapping paper than she did. He tears it off and takes in the non-descript black box. She made sure there were no logos. She didn’t want him to guess. His gaze flicks up to her face, then back to the box. He opens it and blinks.

 

“Did you _really_?”

 

Giselle smiles. “I did.” About two weeks ago, Luke lost his watch in the shuffle between meetings and lunches. He and his brother had matching watches—gifts from their mother—and even if he didn’t say anything, she could tell it bothered him to lose it. So she’d looked at a few Rolexes, and found one that was sleek and elegant. It’s silver with a leather band, which the twins favor. The minutes are marked with numbers every five, and the hours with silver bars. There is even a smaller circle inside it to mark the date. “And if you’re worried about Mark, I got him the same one, since he knows what happened. You’ll match again.”

 

Luke is speechless. Giselle could laugh at him if it weren’t over something so personal. It’s so hard to get him to shut up. She takes the box from him and pulls the watch out. 

 

“However, I made sure you could tell which is which.” She turns it over and shows him the metal back. He squints to read the inscription.

 

“‘Don’t lose this one. -G.R.’” He laughs. Giselle smiles and pulls his arm over to put the watch around his wrist. “I can’t make any promises, Giselle.”

 

Giselle scoffs. “Put some effort into it at least.” She gets the excess strap through the loop and releases his wrist. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

 

Luke holds his wrist closer to his face. He studies the watch. Giselle bounces on her feet just a bit. She hates when he stalls to make her sweat. A grin spreads on his face. “I love it.”

 

Giselle smiles back at him, but it fades when his eyes widen. “What?”

 

“Well…”

 

She glances at the clock on the stove. “God, it’s almost _three_?” Luke reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Giselle huffs, rubbing at her eyes. “What are you _doing_?”

 

“Seeing how late I can get on the train and still be in time for dinner.”

 

“Luke, you are _not_ going to be late.”

 

“I am.” He shoots her a pointed look. “I told you. Christmas Eve.”

 

“What, you’re going to just spend the night?”

 

“And make you breakfast, yes.”

 

Giselle glares at him. He’s backed her into a corner. She can’t possibly tell him to leave. More shocking… she’s not sure she even _wants_ to. It’s more new territory. And she wants to explore it. But she has her limits. She sighs. “I can’t believe I’m… fine. You can stay.” He grins. “ _But_ … we are _just_ sleeping. No sex.”

 

He opens his mouth to speak—Giselle assumes to argue—so she continues.

 

“Luke, it’s not… This is new to _both_ of us. And I want it just as badly as you, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. I don’t want it to be ruined before we even know it can _work_. You understand?”

 

The man closes his mouth. He squints at her. “Can I still kiss you?”

 

Giselle rolls her eyes. “Luke, I’m sensible. Not crazy.” His expression doesn’t change. She sighs again, unable to hold back a grin. “Of course you can still kiss me, idiot.”

 

He grins himself and closes the distance between them, bending to kiss her again. She smiles against his lips, pulling him closer to her. She hadn’t been sure, when he’d kissed her at the party, if it was what she wanted. Now she’s sure. She wants it, wants _him_ , and has for some time. Now all that’s left is to see if they can work. She pulls back, but Luke keeps her close, resting his forehead on hers. Giselle bites her lip and looks up at him through her lashes.

 

“You know, if we do this… we can’t tell anyone. Mark, maybe Emma… but no one else. Not for a while.” Giselle had worked hard to get where she is. She’s heard plenty of whispers from other women and from the men as well about how she’d gotten there. Many of them included imagery of her on her knees or on her back. Obviously, none of it has ever been true. But if she starts now, everything comes into question. She’s a confident woman. But there’s only so much she can take. 

 

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to have to explain any of this to Luke. He nods, solemn. “I know. I won’t. I won’t do that to you.” 

 

Giselle pecks his lips in thanks. “All right. It’s _late_. Take your suit off and meet me in my room.” She turns to walk back, realizes what she said, and turns back to him. “Leave your underwear on at least.”

 

Luke snickers and Giselle makes her exit before he can start to undress. She starts for her bed, but remembers the necklace. Glancing at the door, Giselle instead makes for her vanity. She takes in her reflection. The necklace looks _gorgeous_ on her. The gold works well with her lightly tanned skin, and it sits right in the center of her chest. His “North Star”, he had said. Now everyone would know it, without truly knowing it. She takes it off with a slight reverence, and lays it out on the dark wood. She’ll put it back on first thing in the morning.

 

Giselle climbs into bed just as Luke steps into her room. She’s seen him in various states of dress over the years. But never for her benefit. It’s almost like seeing him for the first time. She takes in his broad shoulders, tapering down to a slim waist. The soft definition of muscle and the sharp cut of his collarbones. The scattering of hair at the center of his chest and the clean line that lead down into his black briefs. She’d explore _that_ another time. She waves him over and scoots to the far side of her bed. 

 

Luke doesn’t hesitate in climbing in beside her. Giselle can’t remember the last time she had another man in her bed. Nor the last time she had a man in her bed for something _other_ than sex. She grins at him.

 

“Well… goodnight, Luke.”

 

He takes the hint and nods. “Night, Giselle.”

 

Giselle reluctantly turns, lying down to face away from Luke. She hears him hesitate as well, pausing before doing the same. She lays awake for a long time. Luke breathes behind her. She wonders if he’s asleep, or just staring at the door as she stares at the wall. She wants to touch him. She _does_. But it isn’t smart. She doesn’t want… She blinks hard.

 

She doesn’t want this to fail. She doesn’t want to lose someone else.

 

Giselle sniffs and closes her eyes. It’s late. And Luke promised her breakfast.

 

 

She wakes to the sun on her face. She hums softly and blinks her eyes open. And finds herself face-to-face with a still sleeping Luke Gray. Managing not to start, Giselle breathes deep and studies his face. He looks almost boyish, his hair falling into his face. His long lashes fan out against his cheek and his mouth is open just a bit. He looks relaxed, the stress of life far away from him. It’s adorable, just like realizing that the both of them had turned towards each other in sleep. 

 

Giselle slips out of bed and pads to the bathroom. Before closing the door, she glances back. Luke looks good in her bed, shirtless with the blanket pulled up to his waist. It’s a sight she wouldn’t mind more of. She closes the door as softly as she can. She doesn’t want to disturb him.

 

She takes her time. There’s no meetings, no lunches, no work at all waiting for her. She hums to herself as she basks in the hot water. All month she’d dreaded this morning, waking up to silence and a cold bed and no family to share with. The opposite of most people’s Christmases. Now? She doesn’t think she could be any happier. Well… if she and Luke had woken up snuggled together, maybe. For the first time in _years_ … she feels _loved_. 

 

Giselle finishes washing her hair and rinses away her favorite apple-scented body wash. She almost doesn’t want to turn off the water, but she has a guest. She dries off and gets back into her pajamas, pulling her hair up into a messy bun. She stops to put on just a bit of makeup: eyeliner, a little bit of color on her lips. Nodding at her reflection, she moves to step out of the bathroom.

 

Her bed is empty.

 

Luke had made a half-assed attempt at making it up again. She rolls her eyes. She always has to do everything herself. She fixes the bed, to the point where it almost looks as if no one slept in it at all. Before leaving the room, she puts her necklace back on. She wants to be seen in it, even if only by Luke. 

 

Giselle finds him in the kitchen.

 

He’s back in his pants and shirt, though the latter is untucked with the sleeves rolled up. Music filters out from his phone, which is propped up in the corner. He sings along with it as he putters around her stove, her counters covered with ingredients. Something smells good. Luke looks up when she steps into the kitchen, shooting her a smile.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Giselle smiles back. “Good morning, Luke.” She moves close to him gives him a quick kiss. She leans into him, glancing into the pan. “What’s on the menu this morning?”

 

“I’m making us some omelets with some of the veggies in your fridge,” he declares, checking on said omelet. “I started coffee, too, and I’ll get some toast and butter.”

 

Giselle presses a kiss to his shoulder. “ _I’ll_ get the toast and butter. Let me help.”

 

Luke finishes the omelets, plating them and laying them out on her table. Giselle gets out the butter while the bread toasts, and pours two cups of coffee, making them just the way she and Luke like it. They sit next to each other, eating and trading dumb stories from the party. Luke takes every opportunity to touch her—nudges his knee against hers, reaches for things when she does so their hands collide, fixing a hair that came loose from her bun and even resting his hand on her thigh. It makes her grin into her coffee, to have such affection directed towards her.

 

Soon the food is gone and the plates cleared away. The conversation doesn’t stop. It moves to the sofa, where they sit too close to each other, watching the city out of her huge windows and sipping more coffee. Luke eyes keep landing on her tree. Giselle nudges him with her shoulder.

 

“So. Tell me about the Gray Family Christmas.”

 

“Well…” Luke thinks it over, taking another sip of his coffee. “We get together on Christmas Eve. Or earlier, if we can. We work together to make a big dinner. Not as big as Christmas, but… close. We eat together. Then we clean up, have dessert, coffee. After that’s cleaned up we each open one Christmas gift, and then hang out or head to bed, depending on how late it is. Next morning we open all the presents, have a nice lunch with left overs from the night before, then work on a bigger dinner for us and a few of mom’s associates.”

 

Giselle smiles. “That sounds nice.”

 

”It is,” Luke agrees, nodding at her with a grin of his own. “Makes up for all the time we spend apart, especially for mom.” He looks around, gaze falling on her tree again. “What about you? Are you… do you do this every year?”

 

Giselle looks away and sips at her coffee. “Yeah. I do. I don’t have anyone available to celebrate with, so I just… enjoy the day off. Open my gifs, read a book, watch a movie or two. Sometimes I go to the park if there’s no snow and just walk around.”

 

“Sounds lonely.”

 

“It is. But… kind of nice, too.” She grins at him. “I get a short break from all the bullshit.”

 

Luke lets out a bark of a laugh. “You’re right about that.” He downs the rest of his coffee and glances at his watch. “Oh… I should probably get going. I have to head home to shower and change before my train.”

 

Giselle stands and takes his cup. She watches as he puts his shoes on, his jacket and his coat. Before he can turn back to her she brushes past him into the kitchen, putting their mugs in the sink. He’s leaving. He’s going to go be with his family. She doesn’t know why she’s upset. She got to wake up to him. He cooked her breakfast and sat with her. It’s more than she expected. And not enough all at once. 

 

Warm arms wrap around her from behind, and she almost cracks her head on Luke’s chin. He presses a kiss to her temple. 

 

“I’ll see you in a couple days, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And you’ll be wearing that necklace?”

 

Giselle laughs. “Of course.”

 

“And maybe…” He turns her around and pulls her against him, leaning down to kiss her. “I’ll take you out on a real date?”

 

She kisses him back. “I’d like that Luke.”

 

“Perfect.” He kisses her one last time and pulls away. “Merry Christmas, Giselle.” 

 

“Merry Christmas, Luke.” She leans against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Have a nice weekend with your family.”

 

Luke turns away from the door and smiles at her. A genuine smile. “I already did.”

 

He’s gone before she understands what he meant. A girlish smile takes over her face. She covers it up with her hand, even though no one is around to see it. She stays there for what feels like a long time. No one’s waiting for her, there’s no schedule. She can sit and think about last night, this morning… _everything_ , for as long as she likes. Luke… Luke and her. She and Luke. They could be something _more_. 

 

She touches the pendant on her chest. In the span of a night, everything she didn’t think she’d ever want to happen, happened. And she’s _happy_. Her phone buzzes on the side table, and she grabs it. It’s a text from Luke.

 

“Miss u already :(“

 

Giselle rolls her eyes and shoots him a quick “shut up”. But she doesn’t stop smiling. She sets her phone to a Pandora station of Christmas music and grabs her book, settling in on the couch to _finally_ finish it.

 

Maybe Christmas won’t be so bad after all.

 


End file.
